


yin and yang

by ciaconnaa



Series: tales of ba sing se [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, I did it again I am SO SORRY, but they stand individually!, just a closer look into the universe if you care to read more!, this is a prequel/sequel to the long way around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciaconnaa/pseuds/ciaconnaa
Summary: On one side of Ba Sing Se, Sokka deals with the unexpected passing of his wife, Yue. His friends, stretched across the world, scramble to his aid.On the other side of Ba Sing Se, Zuko gets a call that the mother he considered good as dead ten years ago, actually died. Like, for real this time. And as it turns out, he has a little sister Kiyi in need of a new guardian.or;with loss, comes gain.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Kiyi & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & The Gaang (Avatar)
Series: tales of ba sing se [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866637
Comments: 45
Kudos: 710





	yin and yang

**Author's Note:**

> again. i am SO SORRY. i had to do it to 'em.

8:34 AM.

That’s the single thought, the moment in time, that keeps replaying in Katara’s mind. She’s memorized the exhausted sigh from Huu, the agonizingly painful screech of the heart rate monitor as it fell flat, the tears that blurred her own eyes as she forced herself to remove her hands from the patient.

The ambulance kept on track to the hospital, but the sirens went dead.

8:34 AM is the time stamped on her sister-in-law’s death certificate.

* * *

“Hello, I’m trying to reach a Zuko?”

“Speaking,” Zuko grunts, his attention divided among the choices of moon peaches before him. He begins picking them up with one hand, looking for bruises, sniffing to see which ones are perfectly ripe.

“My name’s Jeong Jeong, I’m Ursa’s attorney. First and foremost - I’m sorry for your loss.”

He pauses, the words registering a hair later than they should, and frowns. “I’m sorry?”

“Your mother’s passing -” Jeong Jeong elaborates, slowly. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Beside him, Azula is inspecting strawberries with a frown. “My mother died,” Zuko says, looking at her out of the corner of his eye; it grabs Azula’s attention. She looks up, blinks, and then shrugs, before she goes back to looking at the strawberries. “I didn’t know.”

Jeong Jeong sighs. “I was afraid of that. She mentioned you’ve been estranged.”

“That’s an understatement. I haven’t seen or heard from her in almost ten years.” He sniffs a peach. Ripe. He puts it in his basket. “What happened to her?”

“Her and her husband were in a car accident.” 

Zuko blinks. “You can’t possibly mean - my _father’s_ dead, too?”

Azula’s head snaps up, her eyes sparkling with much more interest this time around.

“Ah, no,” Jeong Jeong clarifies.

“Oh, what a shame,” Azula sighs wistfully, overhearing the answer. Silently, Zuko agrees.

Jeong Jeong presses on. “She remarried several years ago. Ikem?”

His sister huddles up beside him, shoulder to shoulder. She puts three containers of strawberries in the basket and he shakes his head, mouthing _only two_ as he hands her the top container to put back. “I haven’t heard of him.”

“Right,” Jeong Jeong says, the word caught in an awkward cough. Azula overhears and snickers, pulling him by the elbow to the vegetables. “They had a daughter together. Your half sister. She’s four. Her name is Kiyi. Am I safe to assume you haven’t heard of her?”

A half sister. His mind can’t conjure an image, all he can muster up is a blurry idea of what Azula looked like when they were young. “That would be correct.” He struggles for the right words in a situation that is beyond his maturity level. It’s all information overload, and he feels a bit numb, needing hours - even days - to process it all. “I’m afraid I never got the chance to meet her. My…” He pauses, scratching behind his ear. “...Condolences.”

“Oh,” Jeong Jeong says softly. Then, more brightly. “Oh, no! You’ve misunderstood. Kiyi is alive. She wasn’t in the car.”

Zuko nods before he realizes that doesn’t exactly translate. “Well. That’s good,” he says softly.

“It is,” Jeong Jeong agrees. There’s a long and awkward pause. “Ah. So. The point of my call.”

He waits.

“Ursa and Ikem. They named you in their will.”

“Okay,” Zuko says slowly. He’s gathered as much. “What did they leave me?”

“Kiyi. They left you Kiyi, Zuko.”

* * *

Sokka barely registers the cup of hot coffee Katara puts in his hands.

His sister has been a mess of puffy, red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair ever since she called, and Sokka hasn’t been much better. However, his devastation has mostly manifested into a numbing shock. His wife didn’t have any health problems but Katara’s explanation of _brain aneurysm_ has him replaying every single small detail of Yue that he can conjure: every headache, every hand pressed to the back of her neck, every wince. He wonders if he missed the signs, or if it really was that sudden, the universe cruel and out to prove him unlucky and unfit for good and long lasting things.

“I’m so sorry,” Katara croaks beside him. He feels her slouch, rests her cheek against his bony shoulder. “They said - they said she just dropped. I got there and she was still - she was - we put her in the ambulance and then - I did everything I could, I swear, Sokka.”

He’s a husband - a widow, now - but he’s been a big brother for much longer. “I know that,” he says as gently as he can. He’s upset. He’s angry. He’s hurt. He’s confused. But none of it is directed at his sister. He tilts his head and presses a kiss into her hair. “I know.”

She whimpers his name. “Sokka -” Katara never does finish. 

What's there to say?

He passes her the cup and they sit there in mourning until the coffee goes cold.

* * *

“Moon peach?”

Zuko nearly slaps it out of Azula’s hand when she pushes the fruit into his face. “Not now,” he grumbles, fidgeting with his sleeves instead. He’s a cocktail of indecipherable feelings as they wait outside of Jeong Jeong’s office.

Azula, on the other hand, is a picture of calm as she takes a bite. “Suit yourself." She pauses, chewing. "It’s weird, you know.”

“What’s weird.”

Her mouth is full. “How _easy_ this is turning out for the kid. I can’t believe Mom was in Ba Sing Se for months, just like us.” She takes another bite. “Wonder if she ever saw us and just...didn’t say anything.”

Zuko silently wonders the same thing. 

The door to the office swings open and Zuko stands up, prompting Azula to chuckle a little behind her fruit. Jeong Jeong stands in the doorway while a little girl sneaks in behind him, poking her head around his hip.

“Hi,” she says, looking Zuko and Azula up and down. “Are you my brother and sister?”

Zuko doesn’t trust his voice so he just nods. Jeong Jeong beckons him in with a twitch of his index finger. “Kiyi, I need to talk to your brother. Why don’t you get to know Azula in the meantime?”

He stiffens, looking at Azula through the corner of his eye. She’s still rather calm, eating her fruit with a slightly scrutinizing gaze.

“Is that a moon peach?” Kiyi asks.

“Yep,” Azula says, lips popping with the word. “I packed another for Zuko, but he’s lame and didn’t want it. You can have it, if you’d like.”

“Really!? Thanks!”

There’s a million things that could go wrong between those two in the span of just five minutes, but Zuko manages to push that deep, deep down and simply hope for the best as he follows Jeong Jeong into his private office to go over the details of his mother’s will - and Kiyi’s custody arrangement. 

“Are you sure that Noren -”

“Ikem.”

He bristles, waving off the correction. “-didn’t have any other relatives? Brothers, sisters, his parents?” An old memory flashes in his mind - cups of tea and games of chess. “An uncle, even?”

Jeong Jeong shakes his head. “No. He had a great aunt but she’s nearing her 95th birthday. I know you’re young, but you are a much better match for her and,” He taps the paper on his desk. “You were _specifically_ named. I know that there’s the matter of your uncle Iroh, but I haven't been able to find -”

“You won't. He’s not exactly around,” he grumbles, remembering all too clearly his father’s words. _Dead. Dead. Gone_. “I know.”

“Ursa and Ikem, they _both_ chose you, Zuko.”

Zuko groans, posture collapsing into the chair. “I don’t get it. She hasn’t seen me in years. She literally _left_ me and Azula. You get that, right?” Jeong Jeong nods, looking uncomfortable, but for Zuko, it’s simply recalling basic history. “I never even met Ikem. I didn’t even know he _or_ Kiyi existed. How is this a good decision?”

He sighs, looking over Ursa’s will like it holds the answer he wants. “Look,” Jeong Jeong begins, “Your mother certainly didn’t anticipate her and Ikem’s untimely death. This was just a precaution she likely didn’t think would ever be acted on. And I promise you if she had known the current situation you have regarding the overseeing of Azula’s uh -” a very brief pause. “-health, she might have even considered differently. So I understand if this is something you don’t want to do. Kiyi _and_ Azula are a lot for someone your age.”

His words push all the right - or wrong, depending on how one looks at it - buttons. Zuko’s relationship with responsibility has been a _rocky_ one and even though he and Azula have been out from under their father for a few years, it’s still hard for him to accept realistic expectations. It feels like a taunt. A challenge. 

But also something much more.

“Where would she go,” he says softly. “If I didn’t become her guardian.” 

“Foster care,” Jeong Jeong says with a heavy sigh. “Point blank. She could find a home well suited for her and get adopted or she could get bounced around until she ages out of the system. Foster care can sometimes get a bad rep, and for the most part, I think she would do just fine. But I should point out that it’s no guarantee. So, loving family members are always the best option.”

 _Loving._ Zuko mouths the word, unable to speak it himself. It’s not a word he’d exactly associate with himself. “Right,” he ends up mumbling, the word barely leaving his lips.

“You have a few days. In the meantime, she's staying with me.” He nods with his head, gesturing to where Azula and Kiyi are playing outside. “I suggest you spend some time with her, and get to know her, before you make a decision.”

Zuko turns his head and looks through the large windows of the glass. Kiyi is all smiles as Azula regales her with a story that likely involves fire, if the wiggling of her hands has anything to do with it. He clenches his jaw, but doesn’t move.

“...Zuko?”

Kiyi laughs and the sound brings him back ten years.

“....Okay,” he agrees.

* * *

“Hey, Toph. Long time no see.”

She snorts at the joke as she lets her duffel bag fall to the ground before Sokka swoops in, collecting her into a big hug. Their reunion is hardly a happy one, but he spares her a smile, one she can feel when he presses his face into her neck.

“Missed you, meathead,” she leans her head back enough so Sokka can give her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m really sorry about Yue. I wish I had met her.”

He sighs, mumbles _me too,_ and ruffles her hair.

“House is gonna be a little crowded,” he says, hoisting her bag over his shoulder and grabbing her hand that isn’t holding her cane. “My dad and Bato came down last night, and Arnook comes over every day. Hope you don’t mind sharing a bed with Katara.”

“It’s Katara you should be checking with,” she laughs. “I snore.”

“Oh, I remember.”

They take a detour to the airport coffee shop where Sokka orders a coffee he likely doesn’t need before they head out to his car. She waits until she’s settled in the passenger seat and lets Sokka do his neurotic check of her seat belt before she asks, “Any luck on reaching Aang?”

He turns the keys, and the car rumbles to life. “No. Katara’s been trying her damndest but no luck. Kid’s probably still off the grid in Si Wong or the like.”

Toph sniffs, leaning her head against the cool glass of the window. “What about Gyatso?”

“I think there’s three dozen of his fruit tarts on the counter for you to devour.”

That makes her smile a little and she relaxes more against the window. “There better be cherry.”

“I hid them from Bato, just for you.”

They fall into an old, familiar silence until Sokka fiddles with the radio, making sure to find the station she always listens to, even all these years later. In some respects, things don’t feel so different. Sokka’s still got her six, he remembers what she likes, still hums under his breath and taps his fingers to the beat against the steering wheel. If she lets herself, Toph can believe that nothing’s wrong.

But everything is. They’ve all been apart too long, so long that Toph never even _met_ Yue, and now they’re trying to rebuild what they once had. It feels like packing loose sand into sand castles - all of it falls softly between her fingers.

“Sokka?”

The car slows, and Toph thinks they’re at a red light. He reaches over and squeezes her shoulder before grabbing her hand. “Yeah.”

Her voice feels thick like molasses. “What’d she sound like?”

He sniffles, and she knows he’s crying, if only a little. But he’s still Sokka; he pulls her hand over to her face and wipes his nose with the back of her hand, a nasty little prank she used to pull on him when she was twelve and only slightly less mature - she laughs, wetly, and it turns into a bit of a cough. Sokka laughs with her. “Like a fairytale princess,” he finally says and the car lurches forward, the light green again.

“Because she was magical to you, or because her voice really was that high pitched.”

He laughs harder this time, a single bark. “The former is sentimental and perfectly in line with my beliefs, but I was actually referring to the pitch.”

Toph smiles. “Princess Yue. Sounds about right.”

Again, he laughs. It feels a bit superficial, but Toph thinks it has to help. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

* * *

“What’s a firebender?”

Zuko clenches his jaw and glances at Azula, who is no doubt giving the poor worker at the ice cream stand a bit of a hard time. He tries to erase some of the tension in his expression when he looks back down at Kiyi, but he’s sure his smile looks more like a grimace. “Something Azula made up,” he tells her quietly. “She’s a storyteller.”

“She is?”

He feels bad for lying, but there’s no way around it. This hardly seems the opportune time to tell her that her long lost older sister is, for lack of better medical terminology, crazy. “Yes.”

“Does that mean she writes books?”

Zuko shrugs. “I don’t know. If she doesn’t, she should." He finds that's the truth, if he thinks about it. "I guess.”

Azula returns then, carrying three popsicles. “Peach for Zuzu, Coconut for me, and -” she hands off the last one to Kiyi. “Watermelon for -Kiki, was it?”

He knows Azula’s being a bit of a bully, but Kiyi just takes it as Azula being silly and playful. “Zuzu,” Kiyi giggles, taking the offered popsicle. “I like that.”

Zuko groans as Azula cackles settling beside Kiyi. “So kid,” Azula asks, taking a dainty lick. Kiyi watches her carefully and tries to mimic her. “I suppose we should do some lame question game, try to get to know each other.” When Kiyi nods excitedly, Azula smirks. “Great. I’ll go first. What was mom like?”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Kiyi frowns at the mention of their mom, but the tears are held back in favor of confusion. “What do you mean? Don’t you know? Mr. Jeong Jeong says she was your mommy way before she was mine.”

“Well, yes,” Azula agrees. “But she didn’t really like us, considering she left. I mean she liked Zuzu.” She knocks her fist against his arm. “But obviously not enough.”

Kiyi is still confused. Her ice cream begins to melt, dripping on the table. “Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Look at his face.”

Zuko snarls, reaching over to elbow Azula in the gut. “Quit it,” he grinds out. “Can’t you just ask her what her favorite color is or something?”

“Pink,” she answers, overhearing. She’s still looking rather timid as she stares at Zuko’s scar. “What happened to your face?”

He closes his eyes and sighs heavily out of his nose. He sets the ice cream down without a care in the world. He’s not hungry anymore. “I got hurt a long time ago and it’s kind of a scary story. I’ll tell you about it another time.”

Kiyi takes a bite of her ice cream. “Around the campfire?”

“...Huh?”

“That’s where you tell scary stories, right? Around the campfire with smores.” She licks her ice cream. “Or Halloween.”

Beside him, Azula snorts out a laugh. “Maybe,” he says. “We’ll see.”

It’s a good enough answer for her and she’s back to being pretty happy, kicking her feet idly as she snacks. It seems the questions about their mother are forgotten. “What’s _your_ favorite color?” Kiyi asks.

“Blue,” Azula says, twirling her bangs in her hand.

They both look at Zuko, waiting. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t have a favorite color. “I like pink, too,” he decides, and Kiyi squeals in delight.

He smiles, and when he thinks on it long enough, he decides maybe pink _can_ be his favorite color, especially if it’s hers. 

* * *

“How’s Sokka?”

Aang hears Katara sigh over the phone as he double checks the kickstand on his bike before swinging off it. “He’s okay,” she says softly. “Right now he’s...he’s okay.”

He wrinkles his nose as he tucks his phone between his shoulder and his cheek, leaning down to mess with his pack strapped to the back of his motorbike. He starts to pull out his tool set to fix it for the _third time_ since he started the trek through this road called the Serpent's Pass about eighty miles ago. It’s his own fault - the road is clearly treacherous for pathetic bikes like his, but it’s simply the fastest way to get home. “You don’t sound so sure,” he grunts, spilling all the tools messily onto the ground.

For a brief moment, he wishes Sokka were here to fix the bike so he didn’t have to.

“No, I mean-” she sighs again, and Aang’s heart sinks a little, pulling him from his thoughts. She sounds so _bone tired._ “I think he’s in shock.”

“He’s not the only one.” Yue’s face, bright and happy, flashes in snapshots in his mind. The memories are sepia toned, infrequent and quaint, and feeling like a lifetime away. “I can’t believe his wife is just _gone.”_

Katara sniffs.

“Hey,” he whispers out, quickly, soothingly, because hearing Katara cry is the worst sound he’s ever known. “You’ll never guess where I am right now.”

She sniffs again before she takes a long, shuddering breath to calm down. “Yeah? You finally stepped foot into a barbecue joint?”

Aang laughs at that before he gives up on trying to fix the bike for now. He adjusts the phone in his hand before he walks to the tiny guardrail that’s keeping motorists from plummeting off the cliff; he sits on it, propping one foot up, letting his arm rest on his knee. “Broken down on the side of the road.”

_“Again?”_

“Again.”

Finally, a little laugh. “At this rate, it sounds like you should have just ridden Appa across the globe. Would have gotten you there faster.”

He grins, and it hurts his cheeks. He misses his dog, but he knows Katara takes good care of him. “Maybe. But, it’s not so bad.” He pauses, looking out into the bay. “I’ve got quite a view.”

He must have drifted away longer than he thought because the next thing he knows, Katara asks, “What’s it look like?”

The sky is a dusty orange, the horizon a haze. But he can still spot the sun behind golden haloed clouds, crowning the lush green mountains beyond the bay. The water is calm and clear, a glassy reflection of the sky above, and when he listens closely, he can hear the puttering of a small fisherman’s boat headed to the nearest harbor.

It’s beautiful.

“Remember when we were kids,” he starts, curling into himself, “and we went spelunking on that trip down to that cave, the uh-”

“Cave of two lovers?” Katara finishes. “Yeah, I remember.”

He smiles, fond of the memory. They were just kids and for a moment in time he was brave, kissing Katara under the light of a torch. “I think every crystal in those caves is sparkling in these waters.”

She laughs again and his heart swells. “Quite the poet there, Aang.”

“I try.”

“It sounds nice.” She pauses. “ I wish I could be there with you. I miss you.”

Her words are like a knife to his gut. Ever since she called him with the news three days ago, Aang has been scrambling to find some sort of route that would get him to Ba Sing Se in time for the funeral. But he’s in _no man’s_ land. Even if his bike _wasn’t_ shitty, it’s too many miles to the nearest town with a _bus_ that could possibly drive to the nearest city with an _airport_ and not enough time.

His friends are going to have to do this without him.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he whispers, but it’s a useless little sentence. It’s just not soon enough. Yet still, he wants her to know. “I’m so sorry.”

“....Aang?”

“Yeah, Katara?”

“How long are you planning to stay?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it. “For good. I won’t leave again.”

Katara exhales over the phone just as the breeze brushes sea salt against his chapped cheeks. He closes his eyes and tries to remember how it felt to kiss her in that cave, to hold her hand as they found their way out. 

“Good,” Katara finally says. “That’s really good.”

* * *

“What do you think?”

Zuko absentmindedly stirs around the pot of stew before he tastes it - bland. “Yeah, you’re right, this is no good.” He hands her the spoon because she’s always been better than him at cooking.

She rolls her eyes and takes the spoon before trying it herself - she pulls a face and immediately starts dumping more spices in it. “I meant Kiyi,” she amends.

Their ice cream playdate had gone well enough, even with Azula being...Azula. Kiyi had left with a smile on her face and excitement about seeing the two of them again tomorrow. “She seems like a typical...kid?” He struggles for the right adjectives. It’s not like anything about him or Azula was ever typical. 

“Bright eyed and bushy tailed,” Azula agrees, dipping her finger into the scorching pot for a taste. Zuko quickly pulls her hand back and pushes her away from the stove. He grabs the spoon from her hand and gently smacks her arm with it before he points to the kitchen table, beckoning for her to take a seat. “Which is exactly why she shouldn’t stay with us.”

He turns down the stove and frowns, turning around. “Why would you say that?”

His sister scoffs, before she holds out her hand, inspecting her own nails. “We’re not exactly warm and loving people, Zuzu.”

“The sun doesn’t have to shine out our ass for us to be good people, Azula. Besides.” He goes back to stirring. “Kiyi would be my responsibility. Not yours.”

Her voice sours as she says, “Because you don’t trust me.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” He grabs two bowls up from the cabinet and realizes it’s the only two they have - he’ll have to buy another. 

Luckily, it seems she drops it. Instead, Azula waits as Zuko divvies up her portion and puts it in front of her. “Aren’t you afraid?” She asks.

“Afraid of what.”

“Afraid we’ll screw her up.”

Zuko sits across from her, placing his napkin in his lap. He twirls his soup spoon around before he takes a bite - it tastes much better with his sister’s touch. “No.”

“No?”

“We aren’t Dad,” he tells her. “We’ll never be like Dad.” 

Azula hums, elbow coming to rest lazily against the tabletop. Therapy and Zuko’s own brand of sibling love has spent the last two years trying to undo what Ozai did. Zuko thinks they’ve made quite the progress. “True that may be, but I’m not entirely sure being like Mom is a much better alternative. Or did you forget the childhood abandonment?”

“Trust me,” he laughs bitterly. “I haven’t forgotten. But if we leave her to fend for herself, don’t you think we’re just as bad as her?”

When he looks up to meet her gaze her eyes are wide, jaw clenched tight.

“I don’t know,” she finally says. “But I think we can both agree sometimes leaving _is_ the responsible thing to do.”

Zuko can’t argue with that.

They finish their soup in silence. 

* * *

“And then she tells me: _‘Daddy, he asked me to do an activity with him. Who asks someone out like that?’”_

The living room erupts with laughter, mostly her dad’s and Toph’s. Katara manages a short bubble of laughter before she goes back to staring at her cup of tea - it’s cool now, the steam no longer coming up in smokey waves, and she has half a mind to make another just so she can watch it cool all over again.

Arnook launches into another nostalgic story about Sokka and Yue’s whirlwind romance when someone replaces her tea for her, as well as placing a plate with a pretty fruit pastry on it in front of her.

“You should eat something,” Gyatso says, shakily taking a seat in the chair beside her. “I saw that you skipped dinner.”

She smiles at the dessert - strawberry, her favorite, but she’s not all that hungry. Hasn’t been for a few days. “Not sure if this is the healthiest dinner.”

“Healthy, Smealthy. I won’t tell your dad,” he winked and just for him, she takes a bite. 

Katara looks over at the mention of her father - as they’ve gotten older, Sokka’s turned more and more into his clone, especially with his hair growing longer. They have their differences, sure; bur right now they look scary alike. They’re tired, weary, Hakoda sharing Sokka’s pain and grief.

After all, Hakoda knows what it’s like to lose a wife.

And Katara knows what it’s like to have witnessed both her mother and Yue’s last breath.

“Katara?”

She’s zoned out in his direction for too long. “Hmm?” she perks up best she can, taking another bite of her pastry - it tastes better and better with each bite. Maybe she is hungry.

“You okay, honey?” Her dad asks. 

She shrugs off his and Sokka’s worried gazes. In this moment she feels eight and scared all over again. “I’m just tired.”

“Yeah?” Sokka asks. He finishes off the rest of his tea like a shot of liquor. “So am I. Why don’t you bunk with me for the night. Good old sibling sleepover, like back in the day.” In a stage whisper he adds, “I know Toph kicks in her sleep.”

“Not _that_ hard. Don’t be a wimp,” she defends, and Gyatso laughs.

Katara’s slow to get ready for bed. She feels like an intruder in Sokka’s room, surrounded by Yue’s things. Her brother hasn’t touched a thing. Yue was never messy by any means - she was the cleanest person Katara had ever met, but there’s still signs of _living_ in the room. Her nightgown folded lazily on the dresser. Scrunchies on her pillow. The book she was reading open face down on the nightstand.

“Are you sure you want me in here?” Katara mumbles when Sokka comes out of the bathroom. It’s evident which side of the bed Sokka usually sleeps on, and she’s quick to claim it. She's not in the mood to chase a ghost.

“Sure,” Sokka shrugs. He moves Yue’s scrunchies to the nightstand save for one, which he uses to tie his hair up. He glances at the book for a second before he picks it up, and his face breaks out into a smile after a moment’s read.

“What is it?” Katara asks.

“Fish,” Sokka says, turning the book over. “She was reading about fish.”

Katara wrinkles her nose. “What kind?”

“The bioluminescent kind.” He laughs again, turning the book over in his palms. His hand smooths over the hardback cover. “What a fucking nerd.”

“I-yeah.”

When Sokka looks back up at her his smile drops, concern pinching his features. “Hey, what’s up? You’ve got a sort of…” his hand moves around in a useless gesture. “Deer in headlights look.”

Katara can’t speak, not really. She feels like, for lack of a better analogy, a fish out of water. She takes a deep breath and, engulfed in Sokka’s sheets, gets a whiff of Yue’s perfume - it’s similar to the one their mother wore, a scent that's beachy and calm. Her eyes water.

“Katara?” Sokka says more urgently, crawling on top of the duvet towards her. “Hey. Talk to me.”

“I’m waiting,” she admits, her mouth feeling dry. Her lip wobbles uncontrollably.

“For what?”

“For you to _break.”_

“What?” he whispers.

Her face crumples, tears spilling over. “So I can break, too,” and the floodgates open completely.

It takes maybe two seconds before Sokka grabs her in a bone-crushing hug, whispering assurances in her hair. It all feels so _wrong._

“I don’t understand,” is all she can whimper. Her brother’s strength in the wake of Yue’s death is admirable, but she just doesn’t _get it._ The last time someone this close to them died it was their mother, and she and Sokka were _crushed._ She could barely keep it together for her own sake, much less Sokka’s. 

But when Sokka presses a kiss to the side of her head she realizes that they aren’t little kids anymore. They’ve grown, loved, and lost dozens of times over. Pain shouldn’t have a familiarity to it - and if she examines her own life closely, she doesn’t think it does. Which is why Yue's death is so hard for her. Pain _doesn’t_ have a familiarity in their lives- but maybe life has left enough calluses on their hearts for Sokka to hold it together long enough for the both of them.

“I don't understand either,” Sokka admits. “It - I don't know, Katara. I don't. But don't keep all your tears inside for my sake. I remember what it was like with mom. It destroyed you. Do not do that to yourself again.”

Katara hiccups.

“Let it out, little sister. It’s okay.” He leans back, wiping her tears away with a shaky smile on his face. “Yue always said there was nothing like a good cry.”

She takes Yue’s advice.

* * *

They’re in a bookstore three blocks down from Azula’s therapist’s office when Kiyi announces, “You weren’t at Mom’s funeral.”

He glances at the spine of the book he’s holding - _Fire in the Ocean: The Mechanics of Bioluminescence_ \- and shoves it back onto the shelf. “Ah.” He says, for lack of a better response. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t know she died until Jeong Jeong called me. I wasn’t invited to the funeral.”

“Was Azula?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Zuzu?”

He figures he’s in the wrong section of the bookstore and heads to the children’s section, where Kiyi would hopefully find a book she’d want him to read to her. “Yes?” he answers her, not used to actually having a sister _wait_ for him to respond before asking her question.

“How come Mom never said I had a brother and sister? We could have met a lot sooner.”

Zuko sighs, grabbing another book: _Princess Tui: Legend of the Moon Spirit._ He tucks it underneath his arm. “I honestly don’t know, Kiyi.”

She stamps her little foot. It’s almost a tantrum, but not quite. “Aww, I wanna know.” 

With another sigh he leans down, gently grabbing her by both arms and forcing her to look at him. “I’m not trying to pull the wool over your eyes,” he says, and the expression clearly goes over her head. “I’m not lying. I truly, honestly, don’t know why Mom did what she did.”

Kiyi stares at him for a moment before she nods, a little disappointed. 

“But,” he adds, and she perks up a little. “I’m glad I know you now. Two sisters are better than one.”

She smiles, bashful. “Really?”

His own smile feels childish, bright. “Yeah, Kiyi. Really.” He shows her the storybook he pulled out. “How’s this one sound?”

“Perfect! I _love_ princesses!”

* * *

Grief manifests itself in different ways. Sokka knows this. Sometimes it’s a slow unraveling. Sometimes reality crumbles the moment it’s recognized. But sometimes grief is elastic. It stretches and stretches a person until the breaking point is reached and everything _snaps._

For Sokka, his breaking point is Yue’s casket.

They’re going to cremate her. That’s the plan. But Sokka agrees to a viewing beforehand, at her father’s request, trying not to dwell too much on it.

But then he sees her: pale, cold, still.

Dead.

She's really dead.

The next thing he knows he’s on the floor, waking up to the sight of Katara putting him in the recovery position and asking him a million questions. He hears Toph bark at someone to get him water and eventually he’s hauled to his feet, friends and family looking at him with worry.

“I’m fine,” he lies. He doesn’t feel fine, but he’s pretty certain he won’t keel over again. “I can - I can do this.”

And he does. He stands up in front of their little family and gives the eulogy as planned. He cracks his jokes, smiles at the happy memories, cries when he says his goodbyes. 

Not once does he look back at the casket.

* * *

When Zuko goes to pick up Kiyi, she doesn’t look too good.

He tries to brush it off; Kiyi is still excited to hang out with him, so he figures it’s a good sign that she doesn’t feel _too_ terrible. It’s probably a cold, he tells himself. Or allergies. Azula gets those, too. He buys her lunch before they head back to his place, which she picks at. It’s not her normal appetite that he’s seen from the previous few days, but it’s better than nothing. Zuko is confident that Kiyi is likely just having an off day.

Then she throws up on his shirt.

Immediately she starts to cry, which annoys Azula to the point where she excuses herself for a walk around the block. Zuko figures it’s better that way as he carries her to the bathroom and sets her beside the toilet in case the rest of her lunch decides to come back up.

“I’m so sorry,” Kiyi hiccups. There’s a little vomit on her shirt and he decides it’s best to just give her a clean one than make her wear his shitty attempt at cleaning it. 

“That’s okay,” he says softly. When he helps her out of her shirt he notices there’s vomit in her hair too. When he sighs, she only cries harder. “Please don’t cry,” he whispers as soothingly as he can. “You might make yourself sick again.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Sshh,” he soothes. “I’m not upset. No need for apologies."

She keeps crying. "I want my mom."

He doesn't know what to say to that.

This time he apologizes. "I'm sorry, Kiyi. But I'm here. We'll get you feeling better, okay?" He doesn't wait for an answer, putting her shirt with his in the wash before he gets a clean one of his for her to wear. “You might look a little silly in this. Sorry.”

It fits her like a dress. She says as much. “I like the dragon on it.”

“You can keep it,” he says without another thought, and he finds he means it. “If you want.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

She smiles a little, still snotty from her tears and cheeks flushed from her fever. “Thanks.”

He nods his head toward the tub. “Let’s see if we can wash your hair, okay?”

With some of Azula’s shampoo and a few towels to cushion her neck, Zuko manages to wash her hair under the tub faucet and put it back before she pukes again. Azula comes back as Zuko is combing through it and stands at the doorway, silent and judging.

When he tries to put it in a bun, she tuts and pushes him aside. “A braid would be best. I’ll do it.”

It’s an odd sight, watching Azula braid a little girl’s hair. Her nails are long and catch a few knots, making Kiyi occasionally wince, but for the most part, Azula tries to be….gentle. And she succeeds. 

When she’s done she crawls back to Zuko, clinging to him like a koala. She’s still pale, a little feverish, but they don’t have any medicine. Azula, looking for an out, excuses herself to buy it.

Kiyi and Zuko sit in silence on the bathroom floor for god knows how long.

But eventually, he figures he needs to do something a little more _comforting._ He scoops her up and carries her to the living room, wrapping her in the blanket folded over the back of the couch. “What do you normally do when you’re sick?”

She sniffles. “Watch television.”

He doesn’t have a television. He doesn’t even have a _laptop,_ and his smartphone ran out of monthly data a week ago. “Oh. Well.” He looks around the living room. “What about a story instead? I got plenty of those."

"About your scar?"

He blanches. "No. Not that one. It's not a fun story, remember?" he says. "I got..." He struggles. "Really hurt, that's all." When he thinks Kiyi might plead, he adds, "I don't like to talk about it a lot. Another time, okay?"

She nods, frail and pathetic.

"But you know what we do have? That book you picked out. About Princess Tui?”

Finally, she perks up a little. “You’ll read it to me?”

He’s already grabbing it off the coffee table. “Yeah. That sounds...fun, right?”

She smiles at him, snuggling to his side when he settles back on the couch. “Mom read me stories all the time,” she whispers, just as he’s about to read the title of chapter one.

He pauses. “Yeah,” he says wistfully. “She did the same for me.” He clears his throat. “Chapter One: The Spirit Oasis.”

* * *

When Aang finally makes it onto a flight, he discovers his seat buddy has a _very_ familiar face. 

“Suki?”

She blinks, looking him up and down before her eyes widen with realization. Her smile comes next, happy and bright. “Oh my god, Aang!” She leans over and hugs him. “What a nice surprise! Man, it’s been what? Three years?”

He chuckles a little, hoping his exhaustion doesn’t come off as too disinterested. “Something like that. It’s really nice to see you.” He smiles warmly at his childhood friend. “I’ve missed you.”

“So have I.” She looks him over again, eyes mostly on his arms. “I didn’t recognize you at first. Look at all your tattoos!” Her fingers reach out to trace the newest one he has - the fabled sky bison. “They’re beautiful.”

“Thanks,” he smiles at her, but then he yawns, not able to help it. 

Suki just laughs. “Long day?”

“Long week.” He wrinkles his nose. “Been traveling nonstop to get out of Si Wong to catch this flight.” 

“Eager to get home, huh?” Aang can only manage to nod. “Yeah, me too. It’s been awhile since I’ve been in Ba Sing Se.” She pauses, really thinking. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve been back since high school.” When she looks over at Aang he nods again. “How’s Gyatso?”

He smiles. “He’s good. Real good. Fattening up Toph and Katara with pastries as we speak.”

“Oh, I remember his pastries. I loved the blueberry scones.” Her eyes sparkle. “Does that mean Toph moved back to Ba Sing Se? I didn't think she'd ever go back once she got out.”

He hesitates, suddenly unaware how to proceed. He figured there’s no other way but to fumble forward. “Not exactly. We’re all just visiting because…”

Her smile fades, some of the color draining from her face.

Aang sighs, slouching down into the small seat. “Sokka’s wife - Yue. She died.”

Suki’s mouth opens and closes, words eluding her. Eventually, she squeaks out, “Oh. I didn’t - I didn’t know Sokka married.”

Something in Aang’s heart sinks. After high school, they all drifted apart, but maybe Suki most of all. He did his best to keep up with Katara, Toph, and Sokka, but Suki sort of slipped through all their fingers. Nothing happened, no fight, no drama - and that’s the worst part of it all. There’s no _real_ excuse. Just a lack of trying.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers and when he snaps out of his thoughts, he sees the tears in her eyes. Suki’s always been an empathetic person, and Sokka always had a special place in her heart when they were kids. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, because he just doesn’t know what to say at this point. It feels wrong to dump all the information on her, especially when it feels like borrowed grief. He’s been unable to comfort his friends, unable to attend the funeral, unable to do a _damn thing -_ the helplessness isn’t a feeling he wants to pass on. 

But it feels just as wrong to bottle it in. Suki’s still his friend, still _all_ their friend, and he doesn’t want another excuse to let her fall through the cracks.

He grabs his phone and starts thumbing through some photos of Sokka and Yue that he pulled up in the last few days. “Wanna see her?” he asks, tilting the screen.

“Wow,” Suki smiles. “She’s beautiful. Way out of Sokka’s league.”

“Yeah, probably,” Aang snickers. “They were cute though. They hadn’t been married for long - maybe a year? I only met her a few times, but she was really nice.” He keeps swiping. 

“She looks it.” Suki says, leaning closer into Aang, he does the same, letting her rest her chin on his shoulder. “Hey -” she taps his screen on a photo of Yue in a _Whale Tail Aquarium_ polo, surrounded by other coworkers. “She worked at the aquarium? Oh, I love it there!”

“Same! They’ve expanded in the last few years.” He pauses on the last photo - a photo Sokka took of Yue at work, speaking to a little girl in front of one of the large fish tanks. “We should go sometime and check it out.”

Suki lifts her head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Aang says this time, more firm. “Definitely. You, me, Sokka, Katara, and Toph. All of us. I mean it. We all miss you; it'll be like old times.”

Suki laughs. “Like old times.”

It’s a warm thought, the old times are. But Aang can’t help but smile, feeling like it’s something new, too. 

“Okay," she finally agrees. "That sounds really nice,” she says, and she rests her head back on his shoulder.

* * *

“What should I bring?”

Zuko looks around, feeling tense as he stands in Ursa’s living room. There isn’t anything he recognizes from his childhood - not even a small, hidden picture of Zuko and Azula. He tries to pretend that doesn’t sting. 

When he keeps staring and not answering, Kiyi tugs on his hand for his attention. “Oh,” he says softly, clearing his throat. “Most of your clothes. And your favorite toys and books. Stuff like that.”

Her mouth quirks to the side, thinking, as she looks off to her room. “Will you help?”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m here.”

Kiyi leads him to her bedroom and Zuko can’t help but think this is what his and Azula’s should have looked like when they were kids. Ozai didn’t like mess or clutter or _personality -_ he didn’t have anything on the walls, and none of his toys could be out, even if they had a neat little place to stay. Everything was thrown in a chest. 

Ursa and Ikem seemed to have let Kiyi do _whatever_ she wanted to her room. There are drawings tacked above her bed and lights strung everywhere. Even the walls are painted, each a different color. Which is fine. The deposit on the rental isn’t something he was expecting back, anyhow. 

His sister climbs in her bed and wraps herself in the comforter. “Are we taking my bed? It’s really comfy!”

“No,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” she sulks. “Why not?”

“It belongs to the apartment. Your - _our_ \- mother was only borrowing it.”

“Oh,” she says again. She takes another look around. “Why can’t we stay here?”

“I can’t afford it.” He shifts his stance, puts his hands in his pockets. Zuko has a one bedroom apartment to his name that he already shares with his sister - he’s out on the pullout couch as it is. 

“Oh.” A third time. She looks rather sullen, staring at her drawings on the wall. “Okay.”

He walks over to the walls, poking a drawing with his index finger - it looks like a dragon. “We can put up some of your drawings at my place.”

“Anywhere? Or just my room?"

He grimaces. “You might have to share the one bedroom with Azula.” He’s still a little unsure about that situation, but it’s all he’s really got for her at the moment. “But I’m sure she’ll let you if you ask.” He’s not sure about that one either.

She cocks her head to the side, blinking. “Where do you sleep?”

“The couch. It turns into a bed. Remember?”

Kiyi shakes her head. “Is it comfy?”

Not really. “Yeah, it is.” He taps the dragon drawing again, intent on keeping things a little more light-hearted. “This one is my favorite.”

It works. “Really?” His little sister squeals. He nods. “Thanks!”

“It looks like the one from this book Mom used to read to me and Azula when we were kids. Love Amongst -”

“-Love Amongst the Dragons!” Kiyi finishes. “That used to be my favorite.”

He smiles a little. “Used to?”

“I _really_ like Princess Tui.” and his smile goes a little bigger, matching hers. “Do you think there’s more stories about her?”

“We’ll have to check.”

That certainly meets her approval. She scurries off her bed, leaving her comforter in ruffles, and begins throwing her clothes into one of the bags that Zuko brought up to help pack her things. He’s immensely amused at her methodology, shoving all her play clothes and tutus in there first.

“We can take it all,” he laughs a little when she starts stepping on them to try and get the zip on the duffel closed. “Just slow down. We have time.”

Kiyi watches as Zuko dumps out her things and begins folding them with much more care back into the duffel. “Zuko?”

He looks up, her tone a little too timid for his liking. He has half a mind to think she might get sick again like she did the other day. “What’s wrong?” He lays the back of his hand on her forehead.

But that’s not it. She gently peels his hand away, a pout on her face. “Are you going to change your mind?”

“What?” he whispers hurriedly when the tears start to flow freely. He kneels by her, gently taking her face in his hands. There isn’t much about her that looks like Ursa - that’s all Azula - but he sees traces of their mother in the honey brown of her eyes. “Change my mind about what, Kiyi?”

“Keeping me.”

It’s like the air gets knocked out of him. 

He's only known Kiyi for a few days. But as she stands before him, sniffling, pouting, _pleading_ to be loved, he knows there’s no way he can turn her away. He doesn’t know how his mother ever did it. She’s his _sister._

He loves her already.

“I’ll never change my mind, Kiyi. I promise you. You’re stuck with me.”

Her smile is worth everything.

* * *

“Yue talked to the moon.”

“She _what?”_

“I’m serious! She talked to the moon! Kinda like how you would wish upon a star.”

“That’s dumb.”

“No, it isn’t! It was really cute.”

“I dunno. Seems weird to me.”

“Maybe that’s because you can’t _see_ the moon, Toph - _ow_!”

Aang laughs as Sokka cowers in Toph’s wake. The two continue bickering and playfully shoving and slapping each other; Toph goes as far as to swipe his beer out of his hands, taking a swig.

“Hey,” Sokka whines, snagging the bottle back. “That is my _last_ Cactus Juice. That stuff is hard to find.”

Toph just shrugs, leaning back in the grass. Aang looks over and sees the city lights reflecting in the milky color of her irises, her stare blank as she looks up at the sky. “What’s it look like?”

Sokka opens his mouth to give a quick answer but then he stops, mouth gaping. He scratches his head and Aang and Katara watch as his brow furrows before he takes one of the final swigs of his beer. 

He goes too long without talking because Toph pokes his foot with hers and says, “The moon, Sokka, what’s the _moon_ look like.”

He sets the beer down and scoots closer to her. “Okay,” he says, “Remember when I told you that certain colors look how warm feels, and others look how cold feels?”

“Yes, I remember the lesson, Professor Snoozles.”

“The moon looks like both.”

Toph frowns, but she doesn’t immediately brush off his explanation. 

“It’s big and bright - like a warm color,” Sokka goes on. He looks up at the sky, at the moon, like he’ll discover something new to tell her about. “White, usually. But it’s in a dark sky. Cold, yeah? And when you look at it, you know it’s millions of miles away in vacuum. Lonely. But it’s not like the sun - it isn’t so bright you can’t look directly at it. It’s bright enough to light your path in the dark.”

Sokka leans back on his hands, looking at the moon with a smile.

“It changes, like us.” Aang says, piggybacking off what Sokka said. “It waxes and wanes. Goes through cycles. It looks a little different every time. But it’s always there. Every night. Even when you can’t see it, you know it’s there.” He squeezes Sokka’s shoulder. 

In return, he ruffles Aang's hair - new, different, but still him - and smiles. 

“Huh,” Toph finally says, swiping the last of Sokka’s beer without complaint. She moves to Sokka’s other side, wedging herself between him and Katara, and looks back up at the sky. “Sounds...comforting. Maybe Yue isn’t as crazy as I thought she was.”

“See?” Sokka gleams. “It’s kinda fun. I’ll go first.” He folds his hands together like a prayer. “Oh great celestial moon, my terrible friend has stolen the last of my Cactus Juice. Please use your lunar powers to - _ow!_ Did you just _pinch_ me?”

“Would you rather I bite you?”

“You wouldn’t _dare -_ oh my god you did it.” Aang and Katara laugh at his expense as he rubs his arm. “I forgot how dangerous it is to taunt you.”

“You better remember,” Toph quips, “Because if you think I’m going to just disappear again back to Gaoling, you’ve got another thing coming. I’ve got plans for this city. Big plans. My gym is going to actually make this shitty place tolerable.”

“You mean -?”

“I’m moving here, dummy.”

Sokka stiffens. “Really? You’re moving here? Like…” He sounds hopeful. “For good?”

Aang beams. “She’s not the only one.”

"Yeah," Katara agrees. "We're not going anywhere."

Sokka’s smile is brighter than the moon.

“In that case - we’re gonna need to find a bigger apartment.”

* * *

“Well, congratulations.” Jeong Jeong says. “As of…” He pauses to check his watch. “Today at 8:34 in the morning, you are officially in charge of Kiyi, Zuko.”

Before he can get a word in, his youngest sister cheers, jumping into his arms without warning. Beside him Azula messes with his hair in a way she knows aggravates him, a smirk on her face. But it’s fine. Nothing can ruin this day.

The walk out of Jeong Jeong’s office is just as cheery, Kiyi yammering on about how they should celebrate the day - he hears ice cream, the zoo and the bookstore among the suggestions - and even Azula’s smiles have a softer edge to them.

“This is hard for me to admit, but,” she sighs dramatically. “You were right, Zuzu. This is the right thing. You’ll be better than Mom and Dad. I think…”

“You think what?”

She knocks her fist against his arm. “You always have been.”

“Ooh, ooh!” Kiyi yells, interrupting what is possibly the only soft and mushy moment he and Azula have ever had. “Can we go to the aquarium?”

“Of course,” Azula says smoothly before Zuko can get in a word. “We can get an ice cream on the way as well.”

“Yay!”

When Zuko shoots her a slightly dirty look for agreeing to give their sister ice cream for lunch, she simply shrugs in reply. “What? I might have given you a compliment, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the wet blanket and I’m _the cool one.”_

He rolls his eyes but it’s hard to stay mad when both his sisters grab and drag him towards the nearest ice cream parlor, wicked smiles on their faces. It feels like what a family _should_ feel like. 

Zuko hopes his wherever he is, his uncle would be proud.

**Author's Note:**

> god. back on my bullshit.doc
> 
> a:tla does these kinds of themes with a certain grace. I can only hope I kinda came close. 
> 
> always wishing you all the best. thanks so much for reading


End file.
